


Tea for Three

by elwon



Series: Exeunt'verse [4]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Awkward Emotional Conversations, Character Study, M/M, coming out to your grandpa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-10 04:46:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10429407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elwon/pseuds/elwon
Summary: Shortly after Dick and Jason have got together, Dick discovers that Jason has not seen Alfred since he resurrected. Dick has to change that, but with Jason refusing to set foot in the Manor, they end up meeting at Ye Olde Englishe Tea Shoppe.





	

Dick wouldn’t have thought before he and Jason got together that Jason would be the openly affectionate sort, and he would have been wrong. For someone whose body language often screams ‘leave me alone or get a bullet between your eyes’, Jason’s surprisingly casually affectionate. In the two months that they’ve been dating, Dick has got used to a constant arm over his shoulders or his hand being held as they walk down the street, his knee getting covered by one of Jason’s large hands anytime they’re sat down next to each other, and the back of his neck cradled, during kissing or just randomly. Dick soaks up the attention and touch, knowing that Jason’s not one for talking about his feelings. But Dick doesn’t need Jason’s words when his hands do such a good job of letting Dick know how wanted he is. Which is why he’s a little surprised that Jason’s pulling his hand away as they approach the little cafe that they’re meeting Alfred in. Jason is visibly nervous, wiping his palms on his jeans and even going so far as to check his reflection in the window of _Ye Olde English Tea Shoppe_. Dick would be rolling his eyes if he weren’t as nervous himself.

Jason heaves a deep sigh, not even glancing at Dick before pushing open the door to the tea shop, setting of the little bell alerting the staff of new customers. Dick does roll his eyes then, following Jason inside. Dick looks around, hoping to spot Alfred before Jason can decide he wants to back out. After a few moments he sees Alfred, sat at a table at the very rear of the cafe, with a small pot of tea, a cup and saucer and what looks from a distance to be a plate of cookies. Dick walks forward, scooping up Jason’s hand as he brushes past him, leading him over to Alfred. He plasters a smile over his face, hoping that Alfred will do his Very English Butler act and pretend that he hasn’t noticed how nervous Dick is and how Jason’s gone from nervous to outright anxious in the space of a few tables. 

“Hey, Alfred. Hope you haven’t been waiting long.” Dick says as they sit in the kind of chairs that remind Dick of the ones that Alfred puts out in the garden during summer, painted metal work with little tie on cushions. He squeezes Jason’s hand in encouragement. Jason briefly squeezes back before pulling his hand away again, reaching for a menu.

“Good afternoon, Richard, Jason. It’s good to see you again.” Alfred says warmly, folding both hands in front of him.

“How do?” Jason mumbles as he sticks his nose into the menu rather than properly greet Alfred. 

One of the waitresses, comes over, warmly greeting Alfred, who is clearly a regular here, before turning her attention to taking Dick and Jason’s orders. Requests for a single pot of Assam (Jason) and a cup of Mint Tea (Dick) taken, she disappears off with a smile and their table is left in a state of slightly awkward silence. Dick endures it for what feels centuries, but in reality is probably only fifteen seconds, before he gently kicks Jason in the ankle, making him jolt and curse. Jason instinctively immediately apologises to Alfred, who merely raises a single eyebrow, informing Jason that he’s forgiven, and with that the conversation slowly sputters into life. Jason slips his hand back to Dick’s, unconsciously lacing their fingers together, and Dick feels more than sees Jason relax back into his chair. Dick’s smile becomes a little less forced, more genuine Dick Grayson than the practiced Richard Wayne smile that he’s become far too good at in the last few years.

“Yeah, so, I kinda did the whole globetrotting world tour of skill acquisition thing for a couple of years. Was in Kenya for a while, then Germany, Spain, Prague too. Spent a couple of months in London. Drove in the bus lanes, fed the pigeons, fooled a couple of locals into thinking I was a native, _and_ managed not to blow up any river boats, that kind of thing.” Jason continues, absently smiling at their waitress as she sets their order down on the table, but she’s too busy eying Dick to notice, which _awkward_. She eventually moves off to clean up another table, obviously disappointed that she couldn’t get Dick’s number after spotting their intertwined hands. 

Jason busies his free hand with pouring himself out a cup, adding a dash of milk and then playing with a packet of sugar and not actually adding it to the tea, focusing rather intently on the table top. There’s obviously a few things that Jason has left out of that story, and Dick’s holding back the urge to dig out those details. Training be damned, Jason needs to tell him in his own time, or this relationship won’t last. 

“So not quite the full James Bond experience then?” Alfred teases gently, “Perhaps next time. You might even venture out of the capital!” 

“Well, actually... I did visit Leeds one weekend,” Jason admits shyly, “And of course I had to visit Jane Austen’s house! That was cool, and man, the size of the desk she had to write on? It was fuc-freaking tiny, Alfred! And she had to put it away whenever the family had visitors, isn’t that crazy?” The way Jason lights up when he talks about something that he truly enjoys makes Dick’s heart flutter. His enthusiasm is infectious. Dick could (has and will) listen to Jason talking about literature for hours. 

“Quite so. A sterling example of what you can accomplish with hard work and dedication.” Alfred’s got that warm smile on his face that Dick had forgotten he missed, “Leeds? I’m quite touched, young man.”

“You fooled a couple of the locals? Oh my god, Jason, say something in an English accent!” Dick decides that this is a good moment to use the puppy dog eyes on his boyfriend, he’s prepared to even utilise a lip wibble, but only if he must.

“I don’t want to offend Alfred! My cockney’s passable, but everything else is ...not as convincing.” Jason protests, gaze flicking between Alfred and Dick, hoping Dick will let it go. Spoiler alert, Dick is definitely not going to let it go.

“Oh come on, just a little? I’ll go first!” Dick cajoles, “It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.” Dick smiles triumphantly, as if that isn’t the only Austen quote he knows. Jason just groans loudly like hearing Dick’s attempt was physically painful for him. Even Alfred is giving him a disappointed look. Dick didn’t think that it had been _that_ bad.

“Dick, please, for the love of scaly panties and the batmobile, never, ever do that again. No, not even if your life depends on it!” Jason begs, face about as serious as Dick’s ever seen it. Dick gives Jason an offended look, but honestly he’s just amused that Jason is so stern about the most random things. It makes Dick want to do ridiculous things just to see his reaction. 

“I’m afraid I must agree with Jason, Richard. That was truly... well, words fail me.” The gleam in Alfred’s eye, however, tells Dick that Alfred’s both exasperated and amused.

“I declare after all there is no enjoyment like reading! How much sooner one tires of any thing than of a book! –When I have a house of my own, I shall be miserable if I have not an excellent library.” Jason recites in a perfect upper-class English accent. Alfred’s nodding his approval as Dick stares in disbelief at his boyfriend. That was disturbingly convincing; and if Dick’s honest, really hot. He’s a little conflicted about it.

Dick misses the next few comments, too caught up in the idea of Jason whispering sweet nothings, or Jason’s version of them at least, in that accent. Thankfully years of fighting in booty shorts during puberty have given him a fairly strong sense of shamelessness, so he’s not blushing as hard as he could be. They’re sticking to the safe, socially acceptable topics, Dick is relieved to hear. He’s pretty sure that if it were Bruce, Barbara or Tim, they would be bringing up the Big Problems, which would make Jason fight, before cutting and running. 

The conversation has moved on to books that Alfred and Jason have read in the last couple of years. Dick’s happy to let them chat on without any real input from him, he’s not even heard of any of the books they’ve read. Dick’s just not a big reader, always happier in motion that sitting down still for any length of time. He drinks his tea, and nibbles on the cookies that he can steal from Jason who is blatantly attempting to hog them all, a habit that he’d hoped Jason would grow out of, but annoyingly hasn’t. He’s drawn out of his musings by Alfred’s phone suddenly ringing. Apparently Damian has declared all out war on Tim (surely that’s just a usual Tuesday for them by now?) and Alfred has to return back to the manor to instil order to chaos, as Bruce is hiding out on the Watchtower. Dick can’t really blame Bruce, given the last time, and the sheer amount of property damage that ensued. They still haven’t replaced Silas Wayne’s portrait in the parlour.

***

Alfred is halfway through the preparation for the day’s next meal when Dick strolls into the Manor kitchen with what Alfred could term ‘an abundance of purpose’. He sets down his knife next to the pile of mixed chopped vegetables, wiping his hands on the nearby dishtowel and waits for the young man’s announcement with a slight sense of impending drama. One of the things all his grandsons have in common is a heightened sense of theatrics, which if Alfred had had his way would _not_ be the one trait that they had inherited from him. 

Alfred has, sadly, learnt that he will never get his way on the things that truly matter. He takes a slow steadying breath to ready himself, ready for the latest in a very long line of ...scenes, that can, for the most part, be directly traced back to Bruce, whether in action or motivation. Alfred’s come to the opinion that Bruce tends to be a better father when he’s not trying to be a ‘Father’ which is a subtle but important difference. Dick pauses in front of him, opens his mouth as if about to speak, and then steps back without saying anything; he wanders over to the small corner table that seats four and rests a hand on the back of one of the chairs.

“Can we talk, Alfred?” Dick asks, and the tilt of his head makes Alfred think that he’d really had to force those words out. Dick appears to be dreading this conversation, which worries Alfred. He’s not angry, so it can’t be a spat with Bruce. 

“Of course, Master Richard.” Alfred replies, joining him to sit at the table, settling into the chair he always sits in. Dick’s perched on what Alfred has always thought of as ‘Jason’s chair’ and his agitation is obvious in the constant tapping of his finger against the worn smooth top of the table and the way he’s obviously trying to sort his words into order before he speaks. 

“It’s about, well, Jason. Me and Jason to be more specific. I, uh... damn, this is hard. Sorry, Alfie,” Dick begins, “OK, so obviously you know we’re in a ...relationship. A romantic one, I mean. And, ah, so I need to know, well, want to know how you feel about that? Because we haven’t told the others yet and I know everyone’s going to have ...opinions on that. Because of the whole differing methods of crimefighting thing. And the whole brothers... thing. And that I probably shouldn’t be with him because of that, but I am, and er...” Dick’s babbling trails off at that point as he looks at Alfred hopefully.

“Before I answer that, Master Richard, I have a question myself,” Alfred says, measured, “The No Killing rule is fairly sacrosanct in this house; you seem to have come to some sort of agreement with Master Jason, might I enquire to what that is?” 

Dick takes a deep breath, clearly ready for the question. “I did try to convince him to give up the guns, Alfred. But he made some points that I really couldn’t argue with... why something so simple is so ...complicated at the same time, god, it’d so easily pull us apart, all of us, not just me and Jason.” Dick pauses, taking another breath, “He really believes that killing’s the best way, at least for some of them, and well, we can disagree on that until we’re both blue in the face. I won’t kill, Jason’s not asking me to, he knows the guilt would kill me, and these days he only does it as a last resort. Which I’m still not happy about, but... ” 

Dick sighs heavily, “He asked me why I had a problem with him killing, specifically. I started to tell him all the usual reasons, and he pointed out that _I_ never said a word about Diana or Donna or Roy killing. That unless I had an equal problem with them ‘doing what’s needed’ then I should stop pushing him on the issue. ‘Don’t be a hypocrite, Goldie’ he said. And, I, well, I had to go away and really think about that. I still don’t really have an answer that’ll satisfy _some people_ , but I love him, Alfred. I don’t want to lose him, and he’s right, if my only answer to why it’s a problem is ‘He should know better’ then, well, I’m not sure I like what that says about how I think about myself. I guess, we’ve agreed to disagree for now.” Dick runs his fingers through his hair, looking like that admission had tired him out.

“I was a soldier once,” Alfred says, “and I saw active duty during wartime. Taking lives is a heavy burden and one that I wish none of my children had to know. I believe that Master Jason has had time to reflect on the morality of his methods, and made an informed decision on them. I can’t condone his ways, but I find myself not truly able to condemn him for them either. He is my grandson, no matter what he does, and will always be welcomed by me. And that is all I have to say to you on _that_ matter.” 

Alfred rises from the table, heading for the kitchen counter that holds the tea. He fills the kettle with water and sets it to boil, fixing to make the both of them a much needed cup of tea. “As to your relationship, I had the privilege of watching Master Jason grow from a boy to a young man, and during all that time, his feelings for you were quite obvious to me. I daresay I should have talked to him about them, but I believed that given time, you would grow into the brothers that Master Bruce and I both hoped you’d be. Sadly, that time was cut short. I suppose I should be surprised that the two of you have started this relationship, but I find myself both utterly unsurprised and gladdened. I can’t find it within me to be upset at something that makes the both of you so happy. Is that enough of an answer for you, young man?” Alfred gives one of his rare smiles to take out any sting that his words might have had. Still sitting at the table, Dick is so relieved that he flops forward, letting his face rest on the wooden table top.

“Yes. Thank you, Alfred. I don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t been ok with this.” Dick’s voice is slightly muffled by the table, but Alfred just about makes it out while he steeps the tea. 

“You would have managed, Master Richard.” Alfred says in a fond tone, quickly and neatly arranging the teapot and cups on a tray with a manner of long practice, before bringing it over to the table.

“I seem to recall _someone_ telling me that I was as much use without him as a chocolate teapot!” Dick says teasing Alfred as he sits up, with the air of someone who’s just dodged a metaphorical bullet and is now giddy on adrenaline.

“Perish the thought! Now drink your tea.” Alfred orders as he sets pours them both cups of steaming, comforting tea, “What can’t be fixed with a good cup of tea is nothing I want to know about.”

“Yes sir!” Dick grins. 

***

The next time Alfred walks into _Ye Olde English Tea Shoppe_ , the decor and the atmosphere are exactly the same, that odd mix of many teapots, chintzy floral curtains, lace tablecloths and union jack bunting that supposedly screams English; and yet everything feels different. Jason’s sitting at the same table they occupied last time they met; Dick’s not with him, so he has to make it through a pleasant afternoon tea and chat with Alfred alone. Alfred can see that he’s still a bit nervous without Dick there to run interference, but for the most part he seems in good spirits. 

His height is still a surprise to Alfred; he’d been so small and so young when he died. There are other obvious changes, of course, the length of his hair, the width of his shoulders, the heavier imposing build of hard-earned muscle. His jaw is squarer than seven years ago and he’s finally grown into his large hands and feet. His leather jacket may be battered and worn, but it’s been well-kept; Jason’s overall appearance is clean and tidy while still recalling the 80’s punk rock aesthetic he’d loved as a young teenager. 

In front of Jason, there’s a pot of tea for two, with matching willow pattern teacups; a generous jug of milk, part of the reason that Alfred favours this tea shop over others, and not just because he’s old friends with the owner from many a year ago; and to finish the arrangement, a plate piled high with Jaffa Cakes. Alfred had never shared this little respite from Wayne manor with any of the family before this. He had been meaning to bring Jason here the weekend he ran away; as a consequence it had not felt right bringing anyone else here. Thankfully the quake of a few years ago had not had too great an effect on the Café, and so Alfred was finally able to share it with his grandson.

“Good afternoon, Jason.” says Alfred as he sits down opposite Jason, carefully setting his coat on the empty chair next to him. 

“Heya, Alfie. How’s it going?” Jason smiles and it lightens up his face, making him look his years; his usual scowl ages him at least five years. Jason pours them each a cup, adding a dash of milk to Alfred’s and quite a bit more than a dash to his own. 

“I’m fine, thank you for asking. And how are you faring, young man? I hope you’re eating well enough.” The implied threat that if he isn’t he’ll restock his cupboards so that he will, comes without much thought from Alfred. The rest of his charges have shockingly appalling habits when it comes to food. Alfred really doesn’t know where he went wrong with them all. He sips at his tea, finding it to be perfect; he sighs in contentment, there really is nothing like a good cuppa.

“I’m really fine, Alfred,” Jason protests, “I know how to cook! I have recipe books, which I _use_ and I visit the local market for fresh fruit and veg. Although the prices are fuc-freaking highway robbery.” Jason takes a sip of his own cup, makes a tiny face and then adds a packet of sugar to it, swirling the teaspoon around before finishing it off with a little clink.

“That is the unfortunate truth of inner city food deserts.” Alfred agrees. Well, at least one of his grandchildren has learnt something with regards to feeding themselves healthily.

“I honestly don’t know how you managed to feed us all without tearing your hair out,” Jason says, rolling his eyes, “shopping for just me and Dickie is asking for a headache.” Jason picks up one of the Jaffa Cakes and shoves the entire thing into his mouth, chewing and swallowing it quickly, earning him a raised eyebrow. He smiles sheepishly, picking up another one and instead taking a politer bite out of it. 

“I do have more experience and practice, it’s entirely true,” Alfred smiles, “perhaps one day I may even tell you my secrets.” He picks one of the Jaffa Cakes and breaks it in half, dunking it in his tea for precisely one second, lest it fall to pieces.

“I would be honoured to learn from the master,” Jason says with clear amusement, “do I need to pay upfront, and do you require an oath of secrecy? Also why are you dunking that in your tea? Or do I mean _how_?” he wonders.

“Both and both, but luckily for you, I take payment in tea and Jaffa Cakes,” Alfred jokes, “and the other is a high level skill that you are not ready for, lad.” Jason laughs at that, leaving Alfred with a pleased warm glow in his stomach that has nothing to do with the tea. “So tell me more about your travels, you said you’d been to Kenya?”

“It was more of a whistle-stop tour of learning how to become a crime lord and then offing the teachers that really deserved it, than for fun,” Jason admits with clear discomfort, “I know you don’t approve, and I’m not asking you to, but... sometimes it’s what they deserve, and not even you can convince me otherwise. I’m... I’m not sorry, Alfred. But I understand if you can’t or won’t,” Jason breaks off, searching for the right words, “If you feel it’s something you can’t be around, I get it.” 

“I was soldier, before I came to Gotham,” Alfred says, “I had to fight and take lives. It’s a burden that weighs on me, and something I hoped none of my family would have to experience. I can only hope you made an informed decision on the subject after a great deal of thought,” Alfred pauses to take another sip of his rapidly cooling tea, “I can’t condone killing, but I cannot condemn you for it, not without condemning myself as well. You are my grandson no matter what you do, and will always be.” Alfred explains, regret heavy in his chest.

“You know, that makes more sense than most of the arguments I hear. I get it. Thanks.” Jason says. He doesn’t look disappointed as such, but it’s clear to Alfred he was hoping for more. Alfred wishes he could give that to him, but he would be lying if he said he did.

Awkward silence ensues for a few moments. Alfred can almost see the gears turning in Jason’s mind, and the instant that he decides to bring up the other ‘problem’.

“So... me and Dickie. You cool with that too, Alfie?” Jason’s voice is steady and calm, and if Alfred didn’t know any better, he’d think that Jason’s casual attitude meant there weren’t real, deep feelings between them. Alfred does, of course, know far, far better.

“Ah well, your feelings for Richard were always quite obvious to me. I suppose I should have brought the matter up to you back when you were a boy, but I felt you’d have either denied it or been far too embarrassed to talk about them.” Alfred can see by the look on Jason’s face that he’s entirely correct on that assumption, “Of course, I hoped that you’d have a brotherly relationship in time, but I thought your feelings were probably not inclined to turn familial. I’m not surprised you still feel that way. I was a touch surprised Richard began to return your feelings, however. You make each other happy, and in the lives you lead that is rare. I’m terribly fond of the both of you, and you have my support.” Alfred says decisively. He will protect his boys, now more than ever; he won’t waste his miraculous second chance with Jason.

“Thanks, Alfred.” Jason looks surprised, pleased and not a little relieved that Alfred’s not rejected them. His shoulders relax with the dissipation of tension that Alfred has only noticed by its sudden absence. He decides to guide the conversation to lighter topics for their remaining time here.

“You mentioned recipe books earlier, did you not?” Alfred inquires. It’s best to investigate his grandson’s culinary library before he quietly adds to it, he thinks.

“Yeah, got a couple of Delia Smith’s, Antonio Carluccio, Madhur Jaffery,” Jason takes the conversational lifeline and runs with it, “Alton Brown, and of course, Mrs Beeton’s,” Jason continues with a wink, “I guess I probably use Delia’s How To Cook the most though. I do a pretty good curry, if I say so myself, and Dick’s kinda into my Danish pastries. Which I don’t make that often! Honest!”

“I’m glad you have a wide variety of resources to choose from.” Alfred says. Curry and Danishes? He’ll have to try to get Jason to cook for him sometime, he’s fond of a good curry.

“Well, you know me and books, Alfred.”Jason says, shrugging a little as if to say yes, I have a lot of books, what of it?

“I do indeed.” Alfred recalls the groaning shelves in Jason’s bedroom in the Manor, every week a new or not so new book added to the stack.

“You know I like this place. Great tea and Jaffa Cakes, what more could you want? I think I’m gonna make regular visits here. Would be nice to have company...” Jason trails off, giving Alfred a cheeky grin, “Don’t suppose you’d wanna keep a reprobate like me from tearing up the place?”

“Goodness gracious, what a suggestion! But I suppose I might manage to be around once in a while.” Alfred smiles, glad that Jason wants to do this again.

“Awesome, see you next Thursday then?” Jason suggests, pouring them both second cups of tea, and jamming yet another Jaffa Cake whole in his mouth.

“I shall fix it in my diary, young man. But a Thursday, really?” Alfred has nothing against Thursdays, but has a near instinctive urge to quote the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy every time that day is mentioned.

“Ah I forgot, you never could get the hang of Thursdays.” Jason smirks. Alfred loves the boy, but sometimes he does want to smack him a little. As if Alfred could ever be an Arthur Dent. He knows where his towel is, thank you very much!


End file.
